


For Love And For Duty

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Custom Warden (Dragon Age), F/M, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, Light Angst, POV Alistair (Dragon Age), Prompt Fill, Warden Cousland (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: Caught between opposing needs as the trap sprung, Alistair was torn between his instinctual desire to go to her and sweep her up in his arms, and the need to ride out his anger.





	For Love And For Duty

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill for the Dragon Age subreddit's weekly writing thread! Alistair's POV.

**Prompt: “I’m so angry, I can’t even look at you right now!” & “Then don’t. Just listen!”**

Guilt stabbed at him twisted his heart into knots. It was a tumultuous churning within, bitterness on the tongue and the rigidity of his jaw as he spoke through clenched teeth.

"I'm so angry right now, I just - I can't even look at you!"

It was a test of will to not betray his own words, to turn and look at her as he heard the swallowed sob, choked down just enough to formulate a coherent response. 

"Then don't." She struggled to say and yet it still sliced at him, like the slash of her blade against their blighted foes. "Just listen!" It was more of command than a request, spat in desperation. 

His knuckles paled the tighter he gripped the back of the chair, perhaps the only thing holding him upright at that moment. 

"Alistair…" her voice was a breathy, pleading whisper right in his ear as she approached carefully. "Please? Just, let me explain-"

Caught between opposing needs as the trap sprung, Alistair was torn between his instinctual desire to go to her and sweep her up in his arms - Maker how he adored her gentle heart, one that was so easily taken for granted - and the need to ride out his anger. He didn’t want to feed it, the voracious hound eating at his chest. That wouldn’t do either of them any good.

Her palm against his back made him jolt and then relax to her touch just as quickly. The tension fled his shoulders as they slumped and he turned to her, finally, after an agonizingly long minute. Really, it was too long. There was no way he could stay angry with her, not when he could smell the fresh wildflowers Leliana had braided into her hair or feel her racing heart hammering through him. 

“Oh Lara,” Alistair muttered morosely and closed his arms around her whole body, enveloping her with everything he could give even emotionally spent as he was. His Lara. Laerke. His heart and soon to be his wife and Queen. What a turn of events. The Maker had a strange sense of humor.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t. I’m the one who should be apologizing. Not you. And you don’t have to explain. I may not like it, but, I understand. If this is what you think is best - not Eamon not some poncy nobles who only care about ‘_ preserving the Theirin line’ _ or something like that - you, then I, well, I will just have to accept it won’t I?”

Laerke buried her face in his chest and he sighed as anxiety still gripped him by the tongue and left his mouth dry. 

“I’m - not really sure what’s right or not anymore, Ali. Just that I want to be by your side as we figure it out. If you will still have me.” 

She seemed too small against him, but he had seen her swing a sword around with grace and ferocity too many times to discount her effectiveness in a battle, to underestimate her. He laid his cheek against her temple as he spoke with quiet assurance. “I would have no one else but you, my dear.”


End file.
